


Do You Believe in Faeries?

by Queenjulie



Series: Central Park Fae [1]
Category: Faerie Folklore
Genre: F/M, Fae & Fairies, Fairies, Infidelity, Non-Explicit Sex, Non-con on both human's parts, Puck makes them do it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:28:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27786010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenjulie/pseuds/Queenjulie
Summary: The Puck is hungry, and we are his food. Do you believe in faeries?
Relationships: Robin Goodfellow/OC female character, Robin Goodfellow/OC male character
Series: Central Park Fae [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2032840
Kudos: 1





	Do You Believe in Faeries?

Puck was feeling a mite peckish. He danced through the city, flitting from shadow to shadow, dancing between the raindrops, looking for a snack. A splash of music spilling out a window high above caught his ear, the thumping bass matching the rhythm of his steps. He slowed his steps, his hips begging to bounce in time to the music. He smiled.

The show had been a success. It wasn't Hamilton, but they’d sold out three shows and everybody had hgh hopes that they’d get new jobs soon and wouldn’t have to wait tables or clean apartments for too long. And the apartment they were borrowing for the cast party was  _ excellent _ . Somebody had a rich cousin who only lived in the city part time, and their place was huge, and mostly empty. A couple of couches and a kitchen table were about it, but the cast and their friends filled the place. The borrowed keys were tossed on the kitchen counter amid a stack of plates. The rest of the counter was mostly covered with bottles.

Puck’s itch needed scratching. The music spilled out the window, and he slipped in unseen. Ah. The people here were happy and warm, and he rather enjoyed humans. His hair grew thick and black and curled, short against his head. His skin warmed and darkened, and his sleek suit adjusted to look like the outfit he had seen in a window in one of the shops downtown. He had spent enough time with people to know what  _ expensive _ looked like. Most of them would never see him, but he liked to fit in.

He slid through the crowd, and the people he brushed by shivered or heated in turn. He let a few glance at him, their eyes following him hotly. He liked to warm up a party when he was hungry. The wake he left behind closed quickly as people moved together, a bit closer than they were before.

************

Doyle held her beer bottle and leaned against the wall in the open living room, half listening to John talk about how he almost fell off his chair during the fourth performance. She was mostly watching the raindrops slide down the window. They were up on the twentieth floor, and even though it was Queens, the view really was beautiful. She took a drink and felt the cool condensation on the beer bottle slip down her fingers, as the rain slid down the window.

She generally preferred to keep to herself, but cast parties were always fun, and she enjoyed the feeling of being one of the crowd for a while. She tuned out John’s story--she’d had the spotlight on him during that song, and he’d been perfectly balanced, standing on one foot on a chair while belting out his solo, the entire time. He was a terrible liar, but charming. She’d slept with him twice, and although he didn’t seem to mind that it hadn’t happened again, she wondered if maybe she ought to. It had been a while.

***********  


Puck’s eye flickered over the party. There was a woman with warm, brown skin in the cooking room. She bent into the large cold box humans kept their food in and pulled out a bottle.  _ Refrigerator _ came to him as he formed himself more like them. He admired the view as she twisted the cap off the bottle with a strong grip. She glanced up at him, her eyes suddenly fogging gently as he let her see him, just a bit.

A man walked into the cooking room, the  _ kitchen _ , and the woman smiled and grabbed him a beer as well. The man’s skin was the exact same shade of warm earth as the woman’s. It appealed to Puck. The man twisted the cap off his beer and tipped it toward the woman with a smile, and they clacked them together in a toast. “Maria!" the man crowed, his voice warm with several pints of beer. “That last one was rough, huh?” The woman laughed and said, “Stay away from the pizza, or you’ll never get into your costume again!” The man rolled his eyes and grinned, then walked back into the living room to rejoin the crowd by the fireplace.

Oh no. This wouldn’t do. Puck frowned. They were a perfectly matched set, with all their pretty skin. And he was hungry.

There was a back bedroom, coats piled on the bed. Two pairs of people, kissing, one up against the wall and one slowly making their way onto the bed itself. Puck ignored them, although the pair on the bed moved rather more rapidly in his wake, pulling bits of clothing aside and suddenly thrusting. “Damn, girl, get it,” came a mutter from the kissing pair pressed against a dresser, and a quiet snicker from the pair on the bed. Puck smiled.

He walked out of the room, content to let them finish. It would be the work of a few minutes, and he enjoyed the twinge of hunger, now that he knew it would be satisfied. He sipped his beer, the odd feeling of bubbles in his mouth. Humans.

********************

Cell phones dinged and were glanced at, people laughed, and the party moved warmer and faster than it had before the puck arrived. Someone changed the song on the stereo, and people groaned, so they changed it again. "Stop playing with the fucking radio, dude! Leave it alone!" the director yelled. The man laughed and slid down the wall, sitting on the floor with his bottle, giggling. One of the snottier dancers did a prissy little pirouette in the middle of the living room, impressing the hangers-on and making the other corps members roll their eyes. Maria nudged Doyle and whispered, "God save us from the fucking talent," and they both giggled. 

"Maria," someone called, and she turns, but she can't see anyone waving at her. She mutters, “Back in a sec," to Doyle and walks toward the bedroom, her bottle hanging from her fingertips. She feels warm in her stomach.

Puck smiles as she walks toward him, and he sends the same little tendril of “Come, follow me,” to the man. He watches as the man tilts his head as if he’s heard something, then shake it off. Playful, Puck thinks with a grin. He doens’t mind when they fight it off a bit. Makes it sweeter. “Come now,” he thinks more firmly, and feels a satisfied shudder when the man immediately turns toward him, as if answering a call, and walks away from his little group.

Maria twists her way through the crowd, a bit vague, but she smiles as one of the dancers says hi and jerks her head at the producer, tilting her glass up at him. She wanders toward the bedroom and through the darkened doorway, toward where she’s sure she heard someone call her name.

“Maria?” Anthony is in the bedroom, looking confused. “Did you call me?”

“Huh? No, I thought I heard something,” she says.

“Me too. Weird.” They both look around the clearly empty room, the pile of coats on the bed.

Puck slips through the door, in the shadows, unseen. He’s hungry now, the need to be  _ believed _ scratching through him. “Your skin is so pretty,” he whispers in her ear, and they both sway a bit. Maria shakes her head and brushes a hand across her eyes. She looks up at Anthony.

“Your skin is so pretty,” she whispers, stepping closer to him, beer bottle forgotten on the dresser.

Anthony leans in for a moment, then back. “Um, thanks. Yours too,” he says awkwardly. Puck steps closer, invisible to them, and pushes her forward.

“You match so perfectly,” he whispers to her. “I want to see all your skin against his.” She shudders. Puck looks up over her shoulder to the man. “You want to,” he whispers. “You are going to. Come closer.”

Anthony steps in close, suddenly hot and hard, and he drops his beer bottle on the floor, unnoticed. Maria is breathing hard, and Puck pushes her just a bit, and suddenly they are kissing, arms wraopped around each other, and Puck sighs in pleasure. They are so well-matched, warm skin stroking together. Maria gasps as Mark sucks at her neck, and he pulls back to took at her, and they are both afraid. Hot, wet, and their eyes are scared. “My wife,” Anthony whispers.

“Please let go,” Maria gasps, even as her hips rub against his. Puck laughs and lets them hear it, a jingling laughter around them. "Jesus Christ, did you hear that?" she says, jerking her head back. Anthony pulls her close, unable to help it, nodding even as he digs his teeth into her collarbone, licking along her neck.

“Don’t stop,” Puck says. “Keep going, because I tell you to.”

Anthony reaches down and unzips his pants, a tear falling from his eyes. “I don't understand,” he whispers, as Maria reaches under her skirt and tears a hole in her tights. “Oh God, I can’t stop,” she says.

She thrusts against him, leans back against the dresser and pulls one foot up on top of it, and she says, “Please, I don’t want to,” in his ear, even as she pulls him in tight. The puck crowds close, their hot breaths and fear filling him.

“Do it,” Puck orders, and they both can hear him, as Anthony pushes forward and Maria cries out, pushing back into him, and they fuck hard against the dresser, both terrified and not knowing why, Anthony crying, and Maria whispers to the thing they can both feel in the dark, “Who are you?”

“I’m your fairy godfather,” Puck whispers, and they both clench tight, screaming out in fear and pleasure, and for just an instant,  _ they believe in fairies _ .

************

Back out in the night, Puck turns his terrible face up to the sky, the cool rain running across his cheeks, and he rubs his stomach, so full, so rich and thick with their belief. His sleek black suit, his perfect, glossy top hat return, and he listens for a moment through the open window to the wonderful sound of Anthony's wife pulling open the bedroom door, the stretching sound of Maria pulling off her torn tights and crying, someone yelling, “Goddamnit, turn the music off! What the hell is happening in here?” And Puck dances off down the street, darting from rooftop to streetlamp, full once again.

  
  
  



End file.
